


Pattern Recognition

by felicia_angel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Gen, M/M, Physical Abuse, past abusive relationships, repost from lj, start of relationships, thinking abusive relationships are normal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-03-19 04:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicia_angel/pseuds/felicia_angel
Summary: From an old lj-posthere: John thinks abusive relationships are normal - Sherlock finds out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago, and of course now I'm like 'Ok, rework!' - which I lost. then I found it again. And now all I need is to fix a few things and put this up. So if this seems different than my other works, it's because I started that in 2010-2011, so...yeah...

When Sherlock thought about such things, he’d been attracted to John ever since he heard him say “That…was amazing” and meant it, back after Sherlock had finally allowed himself to explain everything in that cab ride to the first murder they’d solved together. John might have stuttered a bit, might have simply said little more than to cheer on everything that he’d showed off, everything that he’d deduced, but it had been one of the first times that it happened, and Sherlock could only think _Oh…_ before he realized how much he wanted to show John what he could do, to show that he could be a part of this and it would be what helped him. It was why he was glad to take him to Angelo’s, why he’d asked Angelo to bring up the forgotten and now-useless cane for John.

That John had followed him onto a crime scene and stayed, that he’d continued to join him afterwards was something that made Sherlock feel warm inside, in a way he wasn’t quite sure about but liked. It had not taken long, especially after the incident with Moriarty, for Sherlock to decide that he wasn’t about to wait any longer, no matter what Moriarty had promised, and no matter what he thought. That man might think that Sherlock having no heart was what he needed, but Sherlock knew now that it wasn’t true – despite the vest and sights, he had been able to think strangely clearly on assessing the danger – and knew the main person to focus on was Moriarty, that only a few of the guns were real, and the sights were just for show, but the vest was real and that would be what he needed to hit. When he’d seen John in that vest grab Moriarty, when he’d seen what John was willing to do for him…

They were lucky to get out alive, and Sherlock had found himself showing that to John by hugging him close when they got home, taking in his scent and kissing along his neck and up to his ear. John had shuddered, stiffening then relaxing into Sherlock’s arms, tilting his head back to allow better access as Sherlock whispered, “I won’t let him touch you again.”

“Sherlock--.”

He pulled John as closed as he could, biting lightly further down and running his hand up John’s torso, wanting to get him out of his clothing and examine him, so much that he’d know every muscle and tendon, every spot that would make him cry out, every inch of him.

John gasped as he was turned around, Sherlock pressing a deep, demanding kiss on him, his body seeming to fall limp and his body giving over to Sherlock’s demands as he kissed him, hands quickly working on John’s shirt, pausing to regain his breath and because Sherlock knew he couldn’t go too fast. He should wait, should see if John was indeed bisexual or if he’d be hit for his sudden assault, but John just leaned in against him, seeming to realize he could touch Sherlock as well and reaching to caress him along his chest and shoulders, looking surprised that he would be doing this, that they’d be in this state.  
“A-are you sure?” John asked, Sherlock blinking at the odd pieces of the sentence that were left out.

_Are you sure about this, with me? Are you sure about me? Are you sure you want me of all people?_

Sherlock reached up, running a hand through John’s plain, short, uninteresting hair. He enjoyed John’s hair because it was all those things, because it suited John, because the cut was plain but military, it spoke of his history if you saw it right, and no one but he had ever seen it like that.

“I’m always sure,” Sherlock told him, encompassing every question before he kissed John again, wondering if there was a way to hold him so tight he’d never have to worry or leave Sherlock again.

John was breathing hard when they broke off, smiling a little at the answer. “Alright. Alright then.”

=

Sherlock was not like his other boyfriends, but at the same time he was exactly like them, and it confused John to no end when he allowed himself to think about it too much. It made him pause when he was making tea, made him consider what might really be required of him, but Sherlock’s contrary behavior didn’t quite let him learn exactly what he needed to do, what was required of him. When he’d been in the Army, he’d not really had time for a boyfriend or girlfriend, and he’d also had some people talking to him about his last lover, enough to get john worried that they were going to think something had happened.

He’d known what was required of him, as a boyfriend with Lucas and the others he’d been with, But with Sherlock, he’d been living and working with him long enough to at least have a general idea of what was required of him, and that even if he’d been low on money, he could get some from Sherlock if he asked nicely. It at least meant that he could take care of his own bills and not worry about the chip machine at the shops, and get everything that was needed, when they needed it. The advantage was one he hoped to keep, at least until he messed up somehow, but maybe with the advantage, Sherlock wouldn’t be too angry.

Though, with Sherlock’s tendency to have mood swings, John hopes that when he does finally mess up, it’s during a case and it doesn’t end badly. But, John thought, he was at least well-prepared for this relationship. He already knew what Sherlock needed in general, and was able to give it to him without having to guess or make him angry at John’s inability to guess what he was speaking about or wanted.

 John’s first boyfriend had been constantly berating him for being unable to guess, and then for being unable to understand the simple things in school. After that, John had learned his lesson and spoke to his next one of what he was doing, though he’d not pleased him when John went out for the night to the pub with a few friends, despite having told him in advance. Mike, who had returned John, had taken him out again despite protests and kept him in various rooms at Bart’s, with just as many friends who didn’t seem to understand how things were, or if they did they thought it meant he had to hide away from them. John had slipped them at one point and went back, only to find most of his things destroyed. He’d apologized, offering up anything that he wanted, but was told it was too late and he’d ruined it all.

John had ruined all his relationships. He wasn’t going to ruin this one. He knew already he was dull, far duller then Sherlock might like, and he was broken too. Who wanted something that was broken?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John start their relationship, and John has to work through his old way of thinking. Sherlock, meantime, does something he didn't quite mean to do, and begins to have doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS for mentions of past mental, sexual, and physically abusive relationships. While it doesn't go in-depth about them, there are mentions.  
> TRIGGER WARNING for physical abuse and abusive actions.

The first time with Sherlock, after Moriarty and the bomb and John wondering if he’d lose his friend to the dark game being played, had been strangely slow, with Sherlock spending so much time examining, kissing, and touching him that John had nearly lost it with just that, the thoroughness and feel of being caressed in such a way. Mark, one of his ex’s, had done that before but not the same extent, and not with the same casual care. It had been more like Mark wanted to catalogue his responses so he knew what would be best to use against John whenever he messed up.

John had kept a hold on his feeling and sense of self, not wanting to disappoint Sherlock and come so soon, but it had been a while, and Sarah had never really gotten to the ‘benefits’ part of their relationship, instead allowing him a small bit before putting him on the sofa, though she also had chastised him openly for missing out on a date when Sherlock and he had been on a stakeout, reminding him that he only had a job because of her. It was true, sure, but he sometimes felt a bit upset at that fact, angry at her for saying so and demeaning Sherlock’s work by associating it with his inability to juggle both jobs when either had their high and low times.

It had been right after the explosion that she’d broken up with him, stating that if he could only go and get into danger, she wasn’t going to have him around. She’d fired him a day later, but he’d quickly been taken up to work by one of the nurses, Mary, and a few doctors who seemed to be upset with Sarah for how she’d handled something or other. John had been asked to talk about it, and he had, but he’d also not seen what the big deal was – he’d messed up another relationship, and this time, he’d been canned along with dumped. Considering that he was now with Sherlock, now just with him, it was actually good timing that she’d dumped and fired him right then.

Mary didn’t see it like that, but unlike his other friends, she never tried to explain it to him, or talk to him about his mistakes. She simply wanted him to be a good doctor, and he was a damn fine doctor. The others were fine with his semi-irregular schedule – they’d all found his blog and most had their own patients that followed them over. John was more on-call and helped with secondary opinions, and he was quite good at that. At least they’d not said anything when he’d gone to help Sherlock on cases, and called him in only for emergency cases. The other doctors, nurses, and secretaries understood his job with Sherlock and his importance, and he hopes that, when he tells them about the change, they’ll be as understanding and not jump to conclusions.

=

A kiss from Sherlock, long and deep, his fingers somehow becoming slick with oil or something and pressing against his entrance, as slowly working it as he did everything else, stopped John’s thoughts about the past for a good long while, his body wrapped up in the sensation he was feeling. John did his best to not moan or beg as much as wanted, especially when Sherlock didn’t tell him to be quiet or louder, the half-stifled sounds apparently what Sherlock wanted. He slowly worked one finger, then another in, maddeningly slow and sensual, light nips along John’s shoulder near his wound feeling strangely erotic in a way he hadn’t thought they would before. John felt himself fall over the edge he’d been trying desperately not to go over, hips barely held down by Sherlock’s free hand and body weight. 

John pants as he does his best to quickly refocus, ashamed of having ruined their first night by not doing what Sherlock wanted, by being so selfish and by enjoying himself when he’d not given back. He knew that probably he should have asked first before he’d cum, or at least learned if Sherlock wanted to go first, or even what Sherlock wanted, and apparently the shy look he gave Sherlock was enough to convey his apology. Sherlock waited only long enough to see the look before kissing John again, John’s hands and mouth apparently enough. John easily went down on Sherlock as the consulting detective gasped in pleasure, one hand gripping John’s hair lightly (Daniel used to hold him in place, because John never could get kissing or sucking someone off right), and it hadn’t taken John much at all to make him come as well, the shorter blond man doing his best to swallow all of it. He wasn’t sure yet what Sherlock liked, and until he heard otherwise he had to down it all or risk losing face.

Sherlock seemed to droop, lying down on the bed, slowly pulling John up beside him, kissing him again before muttering happily, “Mine.”

John smiled a little, nodding and moving as close as he thought Sherlock would allow. Daniel had hated cuddling after sex, and neither had Lucas, though Lucas enjoyed tying him up or holding him down rather than casual touches in the bedroom. The first time had been as loving and gentle, and it was afterwards that John learned what they did or didn’t like, or faced the consequences of being dull and slow.

“Yours,” he agreed, feeling tired and happy. He’d do what he could to keep this, and knew, in this relationship, he had the head-start and could easily please Sherlock.

=

There was very little that John didn’t do for Sherlock, unless he was in a bad mood about Sherlock’s choices. There wasn’t much of a change from before they were dating to now, save for the fact that they had sex and Sherlock had managed to get John to move into his room, instead of staying in the upstairs bedroom. The move has allowed them to learn more about each other, and Sherlock found John to be a strange but compliant lover, open to whatever Sherlock wanted, and always willing to help and give to Sherlock.

John still praised his deductions, apparently more open now about it since they’d gotten together. He still, to a degree, grumbled about the tea and the shopping but never actually tried to get Sherlock to do such boring things. Sherlock wondered if this was because John was afraid that, if things were left up to Sherlock, they’d starve or die of something stupid like infections.

Sherlock really isn’t that surprised with the idea. He’s had everyone from his mother to Mycroft think that of him at least once in his life, until he’d proven that he could actually do simple, boring things like pay rent on time or care for himself. John simply had his own ideas, and Sherlock didn’t stop him from it because he saw no reason to deny John what he needed. Whatever it was about John, Sherlock had found himself wanting to make sure he was safe and happy, and so far John seemed happy with the changes to their relationship.  
  
It wasn’t just that, though. John had argued with him over some of his social skills, or what little there was, but now they were so in sync that all John had to say was “Bit not good” and Sherlock would know. Lestrade and his minions seemed to notice the change, though he’d gotten quite a talking to because of the pool. Right now, with the new relationship status, Sherlock doesn’t know how that will affect the rest of his work. Not to mention that some aspects of his relationship with John are starting to make him wonder about his boyfriend. What other type of boyfriends had John had in the past? Had any of them hurt John? Was that why he’d been so reluctant to start the relationship, but so happy when Sherlock started it instead?  
  
Which, Mycroft had pointed out on the occasion he’d come over and John was away, was the problem with any hypothesis that Sherlock could come up with. Mycroft could easily find documents on John’s early life, but the man had only a sister left in the world, and little else. He was, therefore, as much of a mystery to Mycroft as he was to Sherlock.  
  
There was the point of a few old wounds that Sherlock couldn’t quite bring himself to catalogue, not because he was unable to but mostly because they were small, simple things that anyone could have picked up at any point. Random scrapes from a life of a soldier or one who played rugby (as Mycroft had put in, the few pictures and a trophy had confirmed) but it still made Sherlock wonder when he did muse about John.  
  
There were times when Sherlock couldn’t help but think about John, to observe him no matter what they were doing, and to soak up his praise for later. Still, there was something nagging him, in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite get to the forefront. Something about how John acted, after they’d become official, something…

Sherlock put it out of his mind for three cases, at least one crafted by Moriarty and the other two just as intriguing, despite their lack of a consulting criminal behind them. The hours were demanding and John was, true to form, following him as much as he could. The end of the whole thing, though, was taxing and Sherlock was tired, irritable, and not in the mood for any human contact, John’s included.

The thoughts came back, nagging in his mind, when he noticed that John had had started to act odd and which Sherlock suspected was something incredibly dull like a cold, or his need to ‘work’ and go elsewhere. That Mary character probably wasn’t helping, probably was flirting with him too. It only served to make him ignore the nagging thoughts in favor of the easier feelings of jealousy and annoyance.  
  
“It’ll be fine,” John said when Sherlock’s mood caused him to say something incredibly rude, and complain about not having another case. “I mean,” he continued, moving near Sherlock, “things looked up last time it got boring, and you weren’t at all bored after that.”  
  
Sherlock glared at John, causing him to flinch. “Last I recall,” Sherlock said, tone acidic, “that particular boredom ended up with you in a jacket full of explosives.”  
  
“Yes, but if everything had stayed fine,” John replied slowly, “you’d be bored.”  
  
“THAT,” Sherlock said, sitting up suddenly, his eyes on John and his anger bubbling, “is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”  
  
John swallowed, looking away after a moment and muttering, “I’m sorry” before standing up, moving over to the kitchen, possibly to make a cuppa. Sherlock hated that John didn’t worry when he was in danger. He hated that John valued his own life far less then Sherlock valued it. He might have hated boredom because his brain rotted, but when it ended and he was satisfied, John might have to hope that he wasn’t caught for shooting someone, or wasn’t kidnapped, or shot at, or used as bait, or threatened, or—  
  
John put the cup of tea down, none for him ( _why wasn’t he taking care of himself? Didn’t he know that Sherlock’s body was just an appendix?_ ), but staying silent, as if attempting to gauge what he could say, before finally speaking.

“It didn’t matter…it really didn’t, because you--.”  
  
John’s sentence stops midway through, the sound of the hard slap Sherlock delivers to him recoiling through the small apartment. Sherlock watches in horror and fascination as John’s head snaps to one side so hard that, for a moment, Sherlock thought he might have actually broken his neck. Anger at himself, fear for what John will do, builds up briefly as his mind tries to figure out why he’d done that. He’d heard that a slap would stop something from spouting nonsense and some damned American show had proven it to where Sherlock agreed with it.  
  
John was blathering, blathering about how unimportant he was. Sherlock hoped the slap would wake him up, and it seemed to, John blinking slowly as he watched Sherlock.  
  
Sherlock waited, impatiently, for John to leave, to yell at him, to demand to know what was going on.

He didn’t.   
  
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him, confused but also relieved he didn’t, a part of his brain that nagged him about tiny things now nagging him about something else, that wasn’t right, that John’s look and stance and whole body was reacting wrong. At the same time, that John was still here, still sitting in front of him, simply looking at him in surprise and not with anger, disgust, or anything else, worked to silence that part as well.  
  
“You’re talking nonsense,” Sherlock said simply, refusing to acknowledge it if John wouldn’t, “and I’m not thirsty.”  
  
John nods slowly, reaching out to take the cup away. Sherlock sighed, running a hand through his hair, his brain moving from angry at boredom to reminding Sherlock of how wonderful John was. Did he really wish to mess this up? To lose this wonderful, gorgeous,  _heroic_  person who was the only thing that could get him to interact with people on any scale that didn’t instantly annoy them?  
  
“John,” Sherlock said, trying to find the right words, “I didn’t mean to do that. I really didn’t. I…being reminded about Moriarty, about what he did,”  _that he touched you, threatened you, calls you my dog_  “is not something I want, unless we’re chasing him.”  _give me something to focus on, to know why I go after him, why I want him drawn and quartered, why I need to put him in some dark hole in the ground while he’s still alive._  “It’s not what I want to relieve this boredom. Any case, as long as it’s interesting, is what drives me. But not the reminder of what I have when I don’t.”  
  
John offers a small smile, understanding as he says, "I understand. I'm sorry."  
  
Sherlock lay back down on the couch, glad for the talk, even with the small seeds of doubt in his mind. "You didn't know. You do now. Never mind it." He turns over, missing John's look, and began hoping for a good, complicated and  _fun_  murder.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John understands how his relationships work, and his mess-ups are now well-documented. However, things get a bit worse before they get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued Warning: Talks about abusive relationships, John still believes abusive relationships are 'normal', Sherlock can't take a hint, and brief mention of abusive mentalities.

John understood how relationships worked, that sometimes his loved ones had to be harsh, but he had to learn, and if he didn’t, he’d be punished until he could learn. Still, he always hoped to learn quickly, or if he doesn’t, that the punishment at least happens quickly so they can move on. He hadn’t realized that Sherlock had been so upset with him, and he’d not read his attitude correctly. He should have paused, should have looked, but with Sherlock, it’s always hard to read him, and so John doesn’t know how long it might take before either he learns better, or screws up again.

Daniel had taken a much longer time then others to punish him, mostly because of finals and also because he wanted to be ‘creative’, so John wouldn’t mess up again. John hadn’t been able to sit for three days after that, and Mike had found out before Daniel had returned from a trip somewhere, telling John to stay away because of one thing or another, even taking some of John’s stuff with them. John hadn’t quite understood, but the end result was him not seeing Daniel again before he’d left town completely, and John had gone into the Army.  
  
The sour mood had stayed with Sherlock for two more days, with the day after his warning being the one where Sherlock walked out without even leaving a note, though John didn’t want to assume that had been the punishment. It might have felt like punishment, considering that Sherlock had been too fast when he’d gone out, and the worry had caused his leg to act up, keeping him from going too far out and forcing him to return back to the apartment.

John doubted, even with that day and the sullen silence in the next day, that it had been his punishment for being stupid and saying something that Sherlock disliked. The tension disappeared when Lestrade called them in on a new case, even though Sherlock had lamented that it seemed ‘dull’, but the situation itself for it was far more interesting than some others. When they’d finally arrived, Sherlock had gone from reluctant to excited, examining the area with the same fervor that he did for any other case that got his full, undivided attention.  
  
John was still on edge and wary, though. Sherlock had not given any signs of if he wanted to punish John, but neither had Daniel until John had messed up. The longer someone remained silent about what he’d done wrong, the more likely it was that he’d end up hurt even worst.  
  
“John?” Sherlock’s voice made him jump, turning to look at him as he motioned for him to come close. He hoped it wouldn’t be now, not in this public place, but then again at least one had put him down in public before for being slow. His leg twitches in phantom pain, but he does his best to not think about it.  
  
They both knelt beside the body, John examining it as thoroughly as he could, not wanting to miss anything. If he did, Sherlock would call him on it, probably not here but he doesn’t know for sure. If he wasn’t what Sherlock wanted, then Sherlock would use that as more of an excuse to punish him.  
  
A hand on his shoulder caused him to flinch, John mentally cursing himself as Sherlock gave him an odd look from that before he said, “Well? What did you find?”  
  
John took in a breath, explaining what he could find and what that might mean. He felt as if he’d missed something, Sherlock watching him intently before nodding. “Good, so far. Come on, we must tell Donovan about this before she decides she doesn’t like me anymore.”  
  
He got up, walking away as John stood and followed, his worry growing. Was he going to add to John’s punishment now for not noticing everything? Had he messed up again?

Donovan listened patiently to Sherlock as he explained what he’d found, a large list of items, before adding in the much smaller list that John had seen, making him realize he’d messed up again, that he’d missed too much.

He wasn’t everyone else, he was Sherlock’s, and he should be better.  
  
John jumped a little at Sherlock’s touch, causing both him and Donovan to frown at John, making him blush. “Sorry, um…time?” He’d had to go to the surgery, maybe he’d be able to calm down.  
  
“I already called in,” Sherlock told him simply, “and you seem a bit…not here. Is something wrong?”  
  
Another black mark…too much time being selfish, thinking about himself, and now Sherlock had noticed. He’d been called out. “It’s…well…I should…”  
  
“I was wondering,” Donovan asked simply, interrupting, “if you could help us out with the autopsy? Our regular caught a cold and honestly, our second is not exactly the best. It’ll help us out.”  
  
John didn’t hear Sherlock protest, so he slowly nodded, wondering if that was why Sherlock called in. He could redeem himself, by proving Sherlock right. “Y-yeah, I can do that.”  
  
“Brilliant,” Sherlock said, smiling at him. “I’ve got a few places to go, so I’ll drop you off at the Yard. Come on.”  
  
John followed quickly after confirming that he’d be able to get in to do the autopsy, trying to mentally prepare himself. He had to do his best on the autopsy, had to be discriminating but also had to prove Sherlock right, he—  
  
“John,” he flinched again, looking up and hoping Sherlock hadn’t noticed it, “I know you want to have me be right on everything, but don’t go looking just for what I said.”  
  
“I was--.”  
  
“I want the truth, not what you manufacture.”  
  
He’d miscalculated again. A larger black mark, unless he didn’t mess up the autopsy. He had to just do it as if it wasn’t Sherlock’s theory on the line.  
  
“Can you do that? For me?”

“Yes,” John answered without fully thinking things through. If he doesn’t think, if he just goes, follows what Sherlock says, and then he’ll be fine.

=

Sherlock was not at all happy with what was going on, and he was also confused beyond any reason. He had two theories about John’s current behaviors, but neither were ones that he wanted to focus on. If he did, if he acknowledged what those theories meant, it would mean something Sherlock couldn’t quite believe.

It would ultimately result in Sherlock tracking someone down and harming them to a point where he’d prove Sally Donovan and Anderson right. It meant that someone had hurt John, possibly while being intimate with him, and that was now something coming back up for whatever reason.

 _You did hit him._  
  
Sherlock ignored the thought and threw it back to the dark area it had spawned form. If nothing else, besides his almost obsessive feelings for John, the thought of proving those two right was disgusting enough to make Sherlock focus even more, wanting to figure out what to do for John.

John had been thorough in the autopsy and report, so much in fact that Sherlock was beginning to really worry. The quick but interesting case had ended with an easy arrest, and he’d left Donovan to deal with the murderer as they’d while they went back to Baker Street, Sherlock trying to think of something else to do. He briefly entertained the idea of bothering Mycroft or going back to his search for Moriarty, but that secretary of Mycroft’s was far too good at blocking calls and texts, and Moriarty apparently didn’t feel like playing after the last case Sherlock had done involving him had foiled his plans.  
  
Pity, as Sherlock needed the distraction already, his mind working overtime from the taste of a serious case, and now it was trying to work around why John would react the way he was, without it being the most obvious reason. After all, if it was that, things would just be….

_There’s always a cycle to these things. Tensions then the incident, the violence, and now a honeymoon and calm and yet he’s acting like there isn’t a honeymoon, like there’s no reconciliation, what is he/why is he/you hit him/you built the tension and—_

There was little food in the apartment, though Sherlock wasn’t really hungry right now, not after that case. He knew an experiment would be in order to keep gathering data on why John was acting this way, and he decided that not suggesting going out would be the first. It normally took John about five minutes, ten if they were in the middle of a case, to suggest food either by restaurant or going out to buy from the nearby Tesco, at which point Sherlock would agree or suggest the nearest one that would be the best food for the cheapest prices, or agree but say he didn’t want anything beyond this or that for his experiments. He’d begun to eat a bit more, if only for the social aspect of it and because being with John, now that they were boyfriends, was something he enjoyed enough to forget how much trouble digestion was to his thought process.  
  
They got home earlier than usual for such a case, Sherlock going to look through his e-mails and updating his website as John wandered into the kitchen before coming back out after a long moment of what should be comfortable silence, taking a seat across from Sherlock and working on his blog in the halted, typing way he did. Sherlock made a mental note to get him something easier to write with, like a journal, and waited.  
  
Twenty minutes in, John’s stomach growled loudly, Sherlock looking up to see him squirm, as if embarrassed. Sherlock considered continuing the experiment, but instead said, “We should order in.”  
  
John blinked, looking over at him as it was the first thing said in those minutes, and finally said, “Um, yes, that would be good.”  
  
“Chinese?”

“If you want,” John replied.  
  
He needed to test something. He felt it would give him the answers, but also some part of him said that doing that test would also make things worse. It was up to him: see if the theory that was coming to light was correct, or don’t. If he did, John might end up even more paranoid, and Sherlock would have to confront Mycroft with his information, so he at least had warning when bodies started appearing and unsolved murders piled up.   
  
“Chinese it is, then,” Sherlock said, standing up. “You don’t mind calling?”  
  
John shook his head, getting up and heading over to the take-out menu as Sherlock tried to think of another reason for his actions. He could easily do the experiment before John got in the call—  
  
“Oh, bloody hell!” Sherlock curses suddenly as he remembers a detail important to the crime they’d just solved. “I have to go. Get whatever you want.”  
  
John blinks, watching him leave before asking, “What about you?”  
  
“I don’t want Chinese!” Sherlock yells back before running out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock talk. Sherlock begins to understand how difficult things will be, and accepts that because...it's John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Talks about abuse as 'punishment', trying to get out of abusive mentality, Sherlock being Sherlock but trying to change, M/M Sex!
> 
> If you're coming from the LJ stuff, I am rewriting parts and changing things. So...there's that. More will be coming!

John had been able to only eat a little of the take-out, his uncertainty and fear of what would happen when Sherlock returned making him feel almost ill. He wasn’t sure if Sherlock was testing him now or not, but he was certain he had possibly failed some part of it.   
  
This wasn’t good. If he continued to fail at these tests, the punishment might be even worst…

Unless…if John took the initiative this time…maybe…  
  
John had never asked for punishment. He’d done what he could to avoid them, as some of the harsher ones had caused him to lose days of work or be in need of medical help that required a person who often didn’t listen to John, even after he’d gotten his degree. He’d always found that odd, but no one ever really explained it to him, at least not in a way that he could quantify.  
  
Still, if that was what it took to rid him of this feeling, to set things right, then maybe it was what he had to do. Sherlock hardly took notice of things unless someone mentioned them, especially during a case that was a fairly dull one like this.

Maybe if John mentioned it, he’d get it over with and be able to have a clean slate now. The prospect of that – a clean slate, not having to worry about messing up again, or having learned the full extent of what the punishment would be – filled John with a sense of ease, but also something else.

_Did I do something wrong?_

He had to have. People don’t just hit other people without reason…right?  
  
The door slammed shut, causing John to jump from his chair, standing as Sherlock ran up, putting away his coat and scarf before looking over at John.  
  
“Um…what was it?”  
  
“Something about the murderer,” Sherlock said, waving his hand, “Nothing important. Did you eat?”  
  
John nods quickly. “I did.” He pauses, considering how to continue. “Sherlock…” his boyfriend had taken a seat on the couch, watching John as if expecting something. John swallows, gathering his strength before unbuckling his belt and slowly taking it off, folding it simply. Sherlock watches without any change in his features, as if he’s curious where John is going to actually do.

It’s not until John reached his arm out, handing the belt to him, that John sees something dark, angry, and sinister flash through Sherlock’s eyes. Doing his best to keep himself on course, John quickly spoke, looking down to avoid Sherlock’s eyes and his obvious anger at John.

_If I get through this, at least I can know the punishment is deserved. At least then I’ll know how bad things might be, and plan it better._

_I can’t let Sherlock get hurt by my poor choices again._  
  
“Please…do what you have to do, but don’t make me wait anymore. I know I’ve…I made a mistake, I know that, and I just keep doing it, but please…I can’t take it. If you do this now then…” he stopped, swallowing and finally saying, “I know you’re going to punish me for being dull, for being an idiot, but I, I can’t wait for it. I can’t have you be found out because you wanted to be creative or--.”  
  
John’s surprised when he’s engulfed in a hug, Sherlock’s height making it truly feel like he was completely swallowed by Sherlock’s warmth and body as he stiffens, uncertain what he should do in the situation. He waits for hits, for something, anything, but Sherlock instead just holds him close, quiet and starting to worry John more, even as he holds the belt in his hand, down and against his side.  
  
John remains still as long as he can, taking in the quiet and peace. It was nice to feel this, and he hopes it would last a little longer, before whatever Sherlock had planned took effect. He hopes whatever Sherlock is doing, whatever this is; it isn’t some way of making him think he was fine, then doing something worse.  
  
“I’m not going to punish you,” Sherlock says slowly, “for being who you are. You’re not dull, or unimportant. Not to me.”  
  
This made no sense, and John wonders if arguing would get things done so he could stop worrying. “I’m dull, and I wasn’t a good boyfriend. That means I get punished. It’s always meant that - if you’re bad, you’re punished.”  
  
Sherlock’s hug gets a little tighter, but not enough to hurt and instead seemed more reflexive. John relaxes a little, unsure if it was right or not, but going with what few signals Sherlock was giving him. He can’t be out of the woods yet, but maybe taking incentive in this was wrong? John can’t see why – he can only think that Sherlock disliked his answer, that it was too simplistic, didn’t show his actual understanding of what had happened, of what he’d actually done.  
  
“You weren’t bad,” Sherlock tells him quietly, “You’re…” he was silent for a moment before saying, “what I need.”  
  
John accepts that, feeling himself relax further into Sherlock’s hold. At least he wouldn’t have to worry for now, though he hopes that if he does mess up later, the punishment isn’t like this one had been.

 Sherlock was warm, his hands traveling up and down John’s spine, seeming to rub the tension out of him, before slowly reaching over and taking the belt. John does his best to not tense until he hears it drop on the couch, though in this case it’s more from confusion than fear.  
  
“John,” Sherlock asks, his voice quiet, “tell me…what the others did to punish you.”  
  
John wants to tense, to worry, but at the same time, he knows that there’s no reason for him to do that. Sherlock had said he was fine, that he didn’t need a punishment, so John would have to go on the thought that he didn’t.

Besides, Sherlock was far too clever to need to need to ask simply for ideas.

“Tell me their names as well, and what you did. I want the whole story.”  
  
John shifts enough to look up at Sherlock, confused by the request. “Why?”  
  
Sherlock’s answer confused John, but at the same time was quite true.

“Because I’m not them.”

=

The rest of Sherlock’s day is normal, horribly so, and he wonders if it was allowed to do that, after everything he’s learned only an hour ago. He didn’t want it to be so normal, and was trying very hard to not compile a list of the men and women John once dated and who’d…

 It was hard enough to keep himself from finding some way to not make Sarah creatively disappear. He’d met the woman, _knew her_ , might not have liked her but he’d _allowed John in her presence_ without seeing, without _realizing…_

His only happy thought was that John was working with people who understood enough of what was going on and had gotten him away, but that didn’t stop Sherlock from wanting to find the others and have them start to disappear in _creative_ ways, to understand the pain and misery they’d given John, even if it was just a molecule of it.  
  
But if he did that, it would hurt John.

If he focused too much on dealing with John’s past, on killing them all, Moriarty might get and hurt John again, and Sherlock couldn’t have that.  
  
They’d shared the rest of the take-out, John looking a little worried whenever Sherlock noticed him, but for the most part it was normal. He’d returned John’s belt to him, but wasn’t sure where to go from here The only time Sherlock had seen such things, heard of such things, was on cases – cases he viewed as boring, cases he’d dismissed unless someone was in mortal danger, cases that he’d never paid attention to because _dull_. Now, he sees that his actions resulted in John thinking he’d done something wrong, that he _deserved_ to be punished for simple failures…

Sherlock wants his old John back, the one who would call him out on bad choices, not cringe and wait for a fight, but to get that back, Sherlock would have to give up being John’s boyfriend.

_I’m not like them. I’m not like them. I’m not!_

If John felt he was making mistakes and that he had to be punished for them, Sherlock could think of few ways of curing him of this beyond simply denying him the punishment, or saying he didn’t need it. Even then, he was sure John would instead interpret it as needing a larger punishment, rather than taking Sherlock’s word at face-value. More than one of his exes has said there was ‘no need’ and tried to wave it off before instead doing something worse.  
  
John was still nervous after the talk and shared dinner, watching Sherlock carefully before Sherlock told him he had to go out and get a few things. John doesn’t seem surprised, instead swallowing and nodding slightly as he started to put the plates and such away, moving carefully around Sherlock as he tries to focus, tries to ignore it, but…  
  
“Stop this,” John freezes the moment Sherlock says that, not turning to look at him as Sherlock walks back, reaching to touch John’s face and turn him to face Sherlock. He felt a coil of hate and despair grows inside him at John’s fear and worry. “I’m not like the others. I’m not about to judge everything you do. I’m not going to punish you for not living up to the same standards I put myself up against. I need you to be who you are, flaws and all. You’re the one who lets me know when I’m going wrong, when I’m not being--.” He stops, sighing. “You’re not doing it wrong, but…I don’t want you to think that I’m going to punish you for anything either. Not being able to read me…even Mycroft can’t. It’s no fault of yours, it’s all mine.”  
  
John swallows, shifting as Sherlock lets go of his face. He pauses, considers John’s look, and Sherlock relaxes, trying to think as he releases John and looks down, wishing he knew…wishing…

“Don’t you…?”

“I want to stay in with you. I can get what I need tomorrow. But…let me stay with you.”

John swallows, looking both happy and uneasy, as he slowly nods. Something about it makes Sherlock wonder if he believes Sherlock wants to ‘punish’ him, wants to do something evil to him like the others had, but…

Sherlock slowly pulls John into a tight hug, simply enjoying the feel of John as he returns it easily. He needs to convince John that he can be as he was before as Sherlock’s boyfriend, that it’s simply a change in how they view each other. But he can’t…he doesn’t know how, besides simply hope that he can show it to John as many times as it takes.

=

  
Sherlock was…gentle, as far as punishments went, and not at all the same as any of his others. John had learned early on that Sherlock enjoyed watching his reaction to various touches, but right now he was on his back, whole body shuddering as Sherlock pushed into him, the first time they’d actually had this type of sex. Sherlock had taken a good amount of time preparing him, slowly pushing in one then another finger as he stretched him.

John’s mind focuses back on the feel of Sherlock moving into him. He’d been forbidden to think about his other boyfriends or girlfriends, and the once he had, Sherlock had stopped preparing him, instead teasing him with kisses and touches along his upper body or his thighs, holding John still as he teased him before going back to preparing him. He’d told John to not touch himself, and to try to not touch Sherlock unless he had to. John’s been good, taken his punishment, but this strange way of doing things – not even holding him down or tying him up, instead telling him to not do it, and then going off Sherlock’s deductions and observations of John as he slowly pushes in, watching John and slowing or stopping whenever he thought or compared Sherlock to the others, when he doubted, when—

He felt Sherlock fully in, breathing quickly at the returning sensation of being filled that slowly, of being filled to the point of wanting nothing more than to thrust back—  
  
Sherlock bit lightly against John’s shoulder, causing him to moan. “You’re thinking too much again,” he says, sounding almost breathless himself, shifting until John gasps and pushes back in the hopes of getting that sensation again. He could feel Sherlock’s smirk against his shoulder before his boyfriend begins to move again, thrusting against the spot and causing John to almost let out a yell.  
  
The other part was to stay quiet. John was unluckily quite vocal during sex, and this was proving harder than not thinking about his other—  
  
Another, harder thrust and one of Sherlock’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him up and thrusting again, the sensations causing him to have to bite back a desperate moan.

“Stop thinking about them, John. Just me.”  
  
John nods, panting as Sherlock thrust up again, a little harder but still hitting his prostate, still almost pulling a sound out of him that instead came out like a strangled half-moan. He wasn’t sure how he looked, held half-up against Sherlock as he started to push into him at a slow rhythm, the touch from each thrust starting to bring John closer to orgasm, his cock hard and straining, dripping pre-cum as he tried to quell the need to reach down and stroke it, hands and arms trying to find a place to grab, resulting in him bending a bit and putting a death-grip on the sheets to hold. Sherlock’s punishment was mostly seeing if he could do as Sherlock told him, and John wasn’t about to fail at that.  
  
Sherlock pulls John up until he was sitting on his lap, moving shallowly in him but still brushing his prostate at every thrust, and each one powerful enough to set off sparks behind John’s eyes. He felt one of Sherlock’s hands reach to grab one of his own, bringing it over to grasp John’s weeping cock. “Now,” his voice was rough, “touch yourself for me, John.”  
  
John’s head falls back against Sherlock’s shoulder as he tries to match Sherlock’s thrusts, the hand holding his guiding him as the other wrapped around his chest, pulling him close.  
  
“You’re mine now, John,” Sherlock says as John felt himself get closer, “remember that.”  
  
John couldn’t hold in the yell as he came, trying to muffle it against Sherlock’s shoulder as he does, feeling Sherlock manage one more stroke before he filled John up.

 John feels like he might have to fall asleep and just stay like that for a week. It was the best and oddest punishment he’d gotten, but it also didn’t feel like he was going to have to make excuses either.  
  
Sherlock, who was normally lazy in getting food or drinks or anything else, was compulsively touching John during or after sex, and seemed to enjoy cleaning him off. He does so easily before sitting up, starting to move and look at something on his phone. He pauses to cover John up in their now-shared bed, reaching over to run a hand through John’s still-sweaty hair. “You’re comparing me again.”  
  
“s’ry…” John manages, half asleep.  
  
“I expected it,” he puts the phone away, offering a smile to John, “Most people always compared their current lovers to their former, but you did get lost in the current moment, so I didn’t see it as often as I think I would have.” He settles next to John, moving to wrap his arms around him, “You did well. Beautifully so.”  
  
John manages a happy sound before he snuggles closer to Sherlock, falling asleep listening to his heartbeat.


End file.
